


I'm Not Leaving Anymore

by fromthebeginningthen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bath Bomb, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Crying Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Hugging, Kissing, M/M, No Mary, POV Third Person, They love each other so much, fluff and slight smut, mention of dead child, this could probably pass for teen but I was worried it's considered mature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthebeginningthen/pseuds/fromthebeginningthen
Summary: John takes care of Sherlock by giving him a nice bath complete with a bath bomb. Sherlock lets himself be taken care of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Nat, so she stays in school!

“ _Damn it!_ ”

The exclamation startled everyone, they rarely heard Sherlock curse. They couldn’t blame him though, they just discovered the missing child. The now _dead_ missing child.

Lestrade called Sherlock in to work on a kidnapping case one week ago after the parents were found dead. It stumped everyone, especially since the parents were at the top of the suspect list given their criminal activity and impending court dates. They assumed the family would not want to lose custody or go to jail. A couple days after the family was reported missing, the bodies of the parents turned up outside the family home.

With no further leads, Lestrade knew they needed Sherlock. Sherlock and John tackled the case nonstop (Sherlock literally who refused to sleep, and John figuratively who napped during mind palace searches). Going an entire week without sleep is, of course, impossible so Sherlock fell asleep on day five in the middle of inspecting dirt from the parents’ shoes under his microscope.

He berated himself for the lost time when he awoke, not listening to John’s reassurances. After going a bit too far in his usual insults for Anderson, John pulled Sherlock aside to talk. It turns out the extra snappish mood was caused by a gut feeling he had about the likelihood of finding the kid, Adrien, alive.

Sherlock, who focuses solely on logic and facts, was perturbed by an unexplainable feeling. When John pointed out the irrationality, Sherlock snapped at him that, “Intuitions are not to be ignored. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” John backed off, but knew the pressure was on.

Whatever this “data” was, it must be important to figure out because Adrien’s life apparently depended on it.

By the time Sherlock figured out the link, it was too late. The warehouse they rushed to contained Adrien, who couldn’t have been dead for more than a couple hours. Fortunately, they caught the murderer who idiotically hadn’t left the scene yet.

Sherlock pointed the cops to the upstairs balcony to catch him (the child’s therapist), and marched out of the warehouse, kicking a crate out of the way. John followed him out and had to rush to catch up.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock ignored him.

“Sherlock.” This time John grabbed his arm, pulling Sherlock around to face him. John faltered at his shattered expression. “Sherlock, we can’t save everyone. We can’t.”

Sherlock interrupted his own sentences, his brain always moving faster than his mouth. “Yes, but we could have saved this one. Him. We could have- if I just worked faster- if I didn’t sleep-"

“No,” John cut him off. “No this is _not_ your fault. It’s that monster’s fault. You did brilliantly as always.”

Sherlock’s face crumpled and his voice broke on his next words. “But I know I could have saved him John. I…I…”

“Come here.” John pulled Sherlock into an embrace. Sherlock buried his face in the join of John’s neck to his shoulder. One of John’s hands held tight to Sherlock’s curls, the other rubbed up and down his back.

“Can we go home?” Sherlock mumbled.

The muffled voice almost brought tears to John’s own eyes which were already feeling prickly.

Sherlock’s emotionless mask was back on by the time they made it to the main road and hailed down a cab, though the hand clutched to John’s gave his true feelings away. With his other hand, John texted Lestrade that they wouldn’t be able to fill out paperwork until tomorrow. He put it away after receiving the go ahead. Lestrade knew Sherlock better than he gave him credit for.

Overwhelmed with the events of the day, Sherlock didn’t know what to do once they walked in to 221B’s living room. He stood by the door and looked around until John instructed him to take off his clothes and go to the bathroom. Good. He could do this. Focusing on orders.

John was already in the bathroom, turning on the bathtub faucet, when Sherlock became mobile. He walked in naked as the day he was born, and John snorted as he looked up. Typical Sherlock, leaving his clothes strewn around the flat instead of bringing them with him to throw in the hamper.

Sherlock gave a slight smile, reading his thoughts and comforted by the familiar domesticity. He sat down on the closed toilet lid, and leaned back to keep his more sensitive parts from touching the cold ceramic.

Satisfied with the temperature, John plugged the drain and got up from his knees.

“I’m getting too old to be on my knees.” He groaned.

For a second, Sherlock and John both looked at each other and chuckled at the innuendo. John pressed a quick kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head then made his way out and down the hall to the kitchen.

He’d made a spur of the moment purchase a couple weeks ago while walking around the mall with Sherlock. The detective ran off to a tea store, and already satisfied with their home supply, John went into the Lush right next to it. He’d been in there once with an ex-girlfriend who adored their bath bombs. He forgot those things even existed. He made a selection and hid it in the store bag he already had, meeting Sherlock back outside the tea place.

John thought he was successful in making this secret purchase. It took him a while to decide where to hide it (under the vegetables in the crisper), needing it to be somewhere Sherlock would never check. He wanted to wait for a special occasion to use it, and now would be a perfect opportunity. Sherlock deserved to be pampered and cared for.

John returned to the bathroom and shut the door, keeping the bag behind his back for a reveal. He grinned at Sherlock who just raised his eyebrows at him. John brought his hands in front and pulled the bath bomb out with a flourish.

Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed this time. “What is that?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Sherlock. Yes, John I’m serious what is that?”

“It’s a bath bomb!” John shook the hand holding it for emphasis.

After a moment, Sherlock said, “Would you care to elaborate?”

John rolled his eyes. “Okay so you’ve deleted bath bombs then. That’s okay, this will be more fun then.” John gave him the pink and green pastel ball and undressed himself.

Meanwhile, Sherlock turned off the water before it could begin overflowing. John stepped into the tub first (so Sherlock got to admire his backside), and sighed as he lowered himself into the heat. He motioned for Sherlock to come in too.

Sherlock kept the bomb in one hand and gripped John’s raised hand with the other, so he wouldn’t trip. He settled in the V of John’s legs, leaning back against his chest. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s chest and leaned his cheek against the side of Sherlock’s head.

“Drop it in.”

Sherlock let go of the bomb and gasped at the reaction. It immediately started fizzing, deep pink and pastel green spreading out from the center of the bubbling. Mesmerized, he watched the simple chemical reaction. The pinks turned to purple, and all the colors started mixing together, releasing a soft jasmine scent.

“Oh.” Sodium bicarbonate, he thought.

“Yes oh.” John chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s cheek, lacing their fingers on his chest.

Sherlock waited for the entire bomb to dissolve before laying back against John completely. Both of them closed their eyes and let their senses soak in the moment. Gentle fizzing, the smell of each other under jasmine, the heat of the tub, the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Here, Sherlock had never felt so safe and loved in his life. He would never understand how John came to love him back, but he would be forever grateful.

Sherlock felt safe enough to stop repressing his guilt about Adrien. He just let himself be held, silent tears leaking from his closed lids. John could feel the slight trembling and held him just a little tighter, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach and whispering sweet nothings.

Sherlock focused on the three words that meant most to him, that John never failed to say even after a bad argument. That John tapped on him in Morse code in the middle of a conversation. That John left on notes in the fridge before going to work. That John wrote in marker on his arm so he would see it when he woke up alone because John had to leave. That John told him silently in the succession of three kisses he placed on Sherlock when greeting him after work.

I and love and you.

Later when the bath was drained and exchanged for a shower, John massaged shampoo into Sherlock’s curls. They didn’t get to often because of his work schedule, but John loved showering with Sherlock. The intimacy of cleaning your partner, caressing their body, was unparalleled to anything John had done.

Sherlock washed John in return, using his own shampoo so John would smell like him. Both of them had a light coating of glitter from the bath bomb that was too stubborn to wash off. Sherlock smiled internally at the “fairy” jokes that came to mind.

John finally shut off the water when it turned lukewarm and wrapped Sherlock in their biggest towel. He wrapped his arms around him as well with the excuse of drying him off with the towel even further. The towel was big enough that it could dry both of them effectively.

John grabbed a smaller towel and rubbed it over Sherlock’s curls, both of them giggling like schoolboys over the disarray it left on his head. They leaned in for a kiss at the same time, dropping the towels and reaching for each other instead.

The press of lips started soft and grew in intensity until they were both panting. Sherlock’s lips parted, letting his tongue touch the seam of John’s. John pulled away before he could moan (they were only kissing for god’s sake).

“Maybe not tonight, love.” He brushed Sherlock’s curls out of his face.

“I’m not made of glass John. I need you.” Sherlock came closer as he said this and began kissing him again. This time the kiss went on until he gently bit John’s bottom lip as a signal to take things further.

John conceded and parted his own lips to let their tongues meet, deepening the kiss. Their pulses sped up and Sherlock shivered. Thinking it was from the bathroom’s chill and not the way John’s hands travelled down his body, John separated and dragged Sherlock to their bedroom. Sherlock was not about to correct him.

Both of them were already naked and hard, so it wasn’t a difficult leap to the next step. John pushed Sherlock in front of him, pressing close to force him backwards. Once the back of his knees hit the bed he toppled backwards with a yelp.

John grinned and crawled over him, reconnecting their kiss. Heat raced through Sherlock’s body as John lowered himself, chest to chest, groin to groin. Sherlock broke the kiss with a gasp.

“John.”

John licked and nipped his way across Sherlock’s collarbone and down his body. One hand tangled with Sherlock’s, the other holding down one of his hipbones. Sherlock bit his lip and released a moan once John’s mouth reached the place he wanted it most.

John brought him off quickly, swallowing so there would be no mess to clean. Sherlock tugged on his hand, pulling him back up to seal their lips together once more. He moaned at the taste of himself in John’s mouth and tried to move the hand that was tangled in John’s hair in between them.

“Shhh.” John stopped his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, “You can do that tomorrow, let’s sleep.”

Sherlock blushed at the adoring look on John’s face, he would never get used to this. He closed his eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” John pressed a kiss first to Sherlock’s cupid bow, then his nose, and finally his forehead. He rolled them over so that his body was pressed against Sherlock’s back, effectively spooning him.

He wrapped an arm around Sherlock, lacing their fingers against his smooth chest. Sherlock was already exhausted, and the flood of hormones from his orgasm pulled him into sleep quickly. The last thing he felt was warmth all around, and steady breaths on the nape of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> The bath bomb I had in mind is called Mistletoe from Lush, please youtube it it looks so cool!  
> This is also my first time writing anything more explicit then slight kissing, I mean it's pretty obvious. I couldn't even type the word "cock" in there.  
> I also pulled a quote from TST, so I give credit to http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/86813.html who has done a fabulous job of creating the episode transcripts!


End file.
